


Poppies

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Loosely inspired by the Myth of Hades and Persephone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: She’d spent her childhood hearing terrible things about him (after the sun hid in the horizon, people usually gathered at the village square to tell stories as they roasted chestnuts and drank apple cider).This was the reason why the first time she’d seen him (seven months and seven days ago), her first impulse had been to run.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 37
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petyrbaealish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaealish/gifts), [morai_thoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morai_thoughts/gifts), [andinanotherlifetime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andinanotherlifetime/gifts), [EzmEmily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzmEmily/gifts), [AlayneBaelish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlayneBaelish/gifts), [LadyMiddlefinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiddlefinger/gifts).



> Happy New Year to everybody :-) I hope this fandom continues active for many years to come, creating and enjoying all kinds of fanworks (fanfics, fanvids, etc).
> 
> This is a short fic loosely inspired by the Myth of Hades and Persephone. I hope you all enjoy it :-)
> 
> (To the people I've gifted this story: please, don't feel pressured to read it. It just made me happy the idea of gifting this to you.)

She was wearing a crown when she descended into (the) his (Under)world.

She wasn’t dead. In fact, those who knew her could even come to think that she’d never been more alive, with her auburn hair fluttering as she ran barefoot over the grass, her cheeks flushed and her eyes flickering with the excitement of the unknown.

She was creating a field of poppies under her feet (she’d inherited the ability of making flowers grow from her mother, Catelyn. Although this was the first time Sansa had made poppies grow. 

She was certain she’d never seen poppies growing under her mother’s feet. Roses, daisies, narcissus, amaryllis, peonies, sunflowers, tulips, yes, but never poppies.

The reason? Poppies were his flowers. And everything that had to do with him was taboo in her small village. His name, his symbols, his world.

People covered themselves when they saw a mockingbird flying across the sky for it was said the mockingbirds could drag your soul to his world. No one planted pomegranate trees but sometimes, these trees grew unexpectedly at his command, and everyone avoided them for they (thought) knew it was another of his tactics to gain new subjects. Everybody (thought) knew the seeds of pomegranate made your heart turn into stone. 

He was the Lord of the other world, the place that existed under the ground, where neither the sunlight nor the moonlight reached. In _Forbidden Tales_ (a book that Catelyn hid on the top of a shelf, behind a row of books about how to clean your home), Sansa had read that only his heart beat in the other world. 

She’d spent her childhood hearing terrible things about him (after the sun hid in the horizon, people usually gathered at the village square to tell stories as they roasted chestnuts and drank apple cider).

This was the reason why the first time she’d seen him (seven months and seven days ago), her first impulse had been to run.

Their encounter had taken place in the Galatea’s Fountain, twenty-minute walk from the small village. Sansa went get some water from this fountain thrice a week, always at dawn. She used a cart to carry the jugs. 

He was hidden behind a tree. A pomegranate tree, she realized. His mockingbird pin shone when he let himself be seen; this was what made her notice his presence (he’d been so silent). Then, the intricate symbols in purple that decorated his black cloak caught her attention, and she watched them for several seconds, until her eyes settled on one of them. She froze.

She had recognized it. She didn’t know what it meant, but she’d seen it in a picture from _Forbidden Tales_. Specifically, in the picture of the magic portal that leaded to his world. 

The pomegranate tree. The mockingbird pin. The symbol in his cloak. 

Sansa lifted her gaze slowly, her heart pounding so hard that it hurt, and glanced at his grey temples before meeting his grey-green eyes.

She let go of the cart and stepped back. 

“Wait.” His voice sounded soft, and he didn’t move. If he’d moved closer, even if it had been only a few inches, she would have run away.

But he remained still, his arms lowered, his hands uncovered.

Sansa swallowed.

“You…” she began, and the sound of her own voice, high-pitched, startled her. She swallowed once more and tried again: “You are the Lord of the other world, the world of the darkness.”

“Darkness?” He tilted his head, looking genuinely surprised, and Sansa felt confused when she saw a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “There’s light in my world too. Although it doesn’t come from the sun.”

Oh. That caught her interest. She forgot for a moment that everybody in her small village was afraid of him and asked:

“Where does it come from?”

“There are tiny creatures that emit a beautiful silver light in my world. They love flying and can sleep as they’re floating in the air. We call them flosnovus.”

“Oh.” Sansa didn’t know what to say. The book just said that neither the sunlight nor the moonlight reached his world, and she’d just assumed there was no light. 

He put his hands behind his back slowly as if fearing she could feel threatened by his movements and went on:

“Those who have never been in my world think it’s dismal and scary, but they are wrong. They just fear what they don’t know, Sansa.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know the name of everybody. It’s just a rare ability I have as the Lord of the Underworld.” He shook his head as if this wasn’t important, but Sansa thought it was. What other things he knew about people? Could he see their deepest desires?

“Why are you here?” she asked knitting her brows.

“I wanted to see you,” he confessed.

“Why?”

“Because you’re special, Sansa. I can feel it.”

“Special? What do you mean?”

“I can feel the energy you transmit. It’s warm and colourful and vibrant. I… had never found something like this before. It’s special. You’re special. You weren’t born to live an ordinary life, sweetling.”

 _Sweetling?_ Strangely, Sansa liked the way this word sounded in his lips.

He smiled softly and asked:

“May I come closer? I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me shorter than I expected to finish the continuation, so here it is. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading! :-)

Sansa didn’t answer.

She stared at him wondering what she should do. What if this was a trick? Since she was a child, she’d been told that she should be careful with what she said. Words held so much power, specially when you spoke with a Supernatural Lord. You could never know what kind of trap they were laying for you.

Most Supernatural Lords liked to change their physical appearance to deceive people.They disguised themselves as old and defenseless women and men, to inspire sympathy in others, to make gain their trust. Others turned into animals (bulls, swans, eagles). However, Sansa had never heard that The Lord of the Underworld used disguises.

He always showed up using his true appearance. Sansa’s eyes traveled down his body unconsciously. He wasn’t bad looking, not at all; in fact, there was something… something alluring in him, and now it was her who wanted to come closer to him. Her right foot moved so slightly that it was hard to notice, but oh, he noticed indeed, and his gaze grew more intense. His pupils seemed darker, and his grey-green irises looked like a stormy sky.

Sansa gasped and took a step back with so much vigor that she almost lost her balance.

Gods, what was she doing? She had never acted this way around a man. But he wasn’t a man, she reminded herself somberly. He looked like a human, but he was the Lord of the Underworld, cunning, ambitious and powerful, and she didn’t know what he wanted from her.

She needed to focus on what she was going to tell him instead of letting his magnetism disorient her. An idea entered her mind:

What if this was his trick? Bringing out his charming self so people thought the stories about him were wrong and lowered their guard? And she’d almost… she’d almost fallen into his trap. Her heart pounded harder in her chest as she imagined what could have happened if she’d answered “yes” to his question.

Would she have given him power over her as soon as this word had spilled out of her mouth? Would he have interpreted this as “consent freely given” and therefore would he have felt entitled to take her to the Underworld? He was more subtle than the other Supernatural Lords according to the stories she’d heard and according what she’d learned from Forbidden Tales. He had never used force to get what he wanted, so she should be fine so long as she kept her guard up, shouldn’t she?

“I would prefer you to stay there, if you don’t mind,” she finally said. She expected to see a flicker of anger in his eyes, but it didn’t happen. He smiled gently and nodded.

“It’s alright. I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Sansa. I’m not going to force you to do anything. You have my word.”

Sansa bit her lower lip. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” she finally said. “I’m wary.”

His eyes shone with amusement. 

“I like your honesty. Though you should be careful with what you reveal, sweetling. Other Lords would use it to their advantage.”

“And you wouldn’t?” she asked with a mix of surprise and also… hope? Hope that he’d been sincere when he told her he wouldn’t hurt her. _Careful_ , she told herself. _Don’t let him open cracks in your armour._

“I wouldn’t,” he assured her, and his voice sounded husky, vehement, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

Damn. Sansa found herself wanting to believe him, wanting to come closer and touch him, to prove herself that this was real, that she wasn’t dreaming.

“I should go.” His voice brought her back to reality. Sansa blinked, confused. Was this all? Had he interpreted her body language and her words as a sign of rejection? Other Lords wouldn’t have respected her wished, but of course, they wouldn’t have asked permission in the first place. Sansa didn’t know what to think about The Lord of The Underworld.

He tilted his head and began turning away.

“Wait,” Sansa said, and her voice sounded so eager that it surprised them both.

He stopped and looked at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Sansa swallowed. She hadn’t thought about her next words, she just wanted him to stay a little longer.

He waited patiently, until she spoke again:

“People say that the mockingbird obey you, that they drag human souls to your world. They also say that you make poisonous pomegranates grow.” She didn’t know why she was saying this, what she was expecting him to answer. He could lie to her.

His expression didn’t change.

“And what do you think, Sansa?”

“I don’t know why you’d like to gain souls using tricks when you can gain them without having to do anything at all. Everybody dies eventually,” she reasoned.

He gave her a small smile. He looked pleased to see her arguing her opinion.

“Other Lords would tell you that we act driven by boredom, most times. Or by lust. Or by jealousy. Other Lords would tell you that we are vicious creatures, sweetling.”

Sansa considered his words. The Supernatural Lords were inmortal. They couldn’t die and they seemed to have unlimited powers. They could have anything they wanted; they just have to take it. Only their morals could stop them, but if they were vicious creatures in truth…

She looked him in the eye and asked:

“Have you ever held back? Have you ever resisted the urge to do something, to take something you wanted so badly?”

Her eyes flickered with intensity when he heard her question, but the rest of his body remained so still that he almost looked like a statue. Sansa couldn’t decipher his gaze.

“Is this a “yes”?” she asked.

He licked his lips, and his voice dropped an octave:

“Yes.”

Something stirred in her belly, and she held her breath. She’d never reacted to a voice, to the sight of someone, like this. Her throat felt dry. She swallowed and shifted her weight from one foot to another as The Lord of The Underworld kept staring into her eyes, paying attention to every one of her movements. Sansa felt bolder.

Without averting her eyes from his, she took a step forward and saw his face contort with surprise. His reaction brought a smile to her face (she knew this was a dangerous game, but, oh, how much she was enjoying it) and asked him another question:

“Are you holding back right now, my lord?”

He held his breath sharply when she called him “my lord”. He didn’t seem to be pretending. 

“Yes.” He growled, and the warmth in her belly spread across the rest of her body. 

Gods. Sansa shivered. She didn’t know whether this was the point of no return, but she was willing to find it out. She took another step forward, and he didn’t move, though she could tell he wanted to.

“What do you want?” she asked, this time in a lower voice.

He licked his lips, hesitant.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear all I’d like to do right now, sweetling,” he finally said.

Heat spread across her cheeks, and she felt the sudden urge to break the eye contact, but she didn’t. She had never flirted with anyone; this was her first time, and she feared he might think that she was too naive. She knew she was all flushed and that he could see it, but she didn’t know what he was thinking. His expression hadn’t changed; he was still looking at her with the same intensity. _With the same hunger_ , Sansa realized.

She took another step forward.

And another.

And another.

And another.

His chest was moving up and down quickly, heavily, when she stopped in front of him. Sansa could perceive a scent of mint. He was breathing through his mouth, and now there was a questioning look in his eyes. Sansa raised her arm slowly and placed her hand on his chest, looking at the symbol she’d seen before in _Forbidden Tales_. He flinched almost imperceptibly, but she felt his reaction, and her fingertips caressed the fabric of his cloak soothingly. She knew she was too close now; she knew she couldn’t run away if he decided to take her to The Underworld, but she hoped she had read him right. She lifted her gaze to meet his and allowed herself to get lost in the grey-green of his eyes for some seconds. He remained still, his chest moving up and down beneath her hand, and she decided to trust her gut once more:

“I have no experience,” she said in a low voice, hoping he would understand what she meant.

Understanding flashed through his eyes. The hunger didn’t disappear, but now there was something gentle coloring his features too.

“You have never been kissed?” he asked softly.

“No.”

His hand stroked her cheek, and Sansa closed her eyes, her stomach fluttering as if dozens of magic feathers were tickling her.

She felt him lean forward and then, his breath caressed her earlobe.

“Would you like it if I gave you your first kiss, sweetling? Uhm?”

Yes, she would like it. So much. But this wasn’t the only thing she wanted. She opened her eyes and nodded.

“There’s… there’s another thing I’d like too,” she said.

He tilted his head encouragingly.

“I’d like to get to know you better,” she went on. “If you like.”

His face lit up.

“It seems we share the same wish,” he said taking her hand and placing it inside his cloak, under his chest. There was an inside pocket there. She looked at him confused and opened her mouth to ask, but she paused when her fingers touched a small item. He nodded, letting go of her hand, so Sansa took it out of his pocket.

It was a whistle.

“It’s magical,” he said. “Whenever you want to see me again, use it and I’ll come to you, not matter how far you are. And perhaps one day, if you feel ready, I can show you my world.”

Sansa looked down at the whistle, a wave of emotion washing over her. She lifted her head and gave him a shaky smile.

“No tricks?” she joked trying to hide that she was touched by his gift and by his offer, his invitation. “Could I visit your world and come back here whenever I want?”

“You have my word. I would never hold you prisoner,” he answered calmly.

She glanced at the whistle once more.

“A perfect picture,” she muttered.

She felt his smile. He cupped her cheek tenderly and leaned towards her, but he paused before their lips touched. He was asking for permission.

“Kiss me,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

He tilted his head, and his lips caressed the corner of her mouth. Sansa placed her hand on his chest again, though her intention wasn’t to stop him; she just wanted to feel closer to him, but she didn’t know how to tell him. He seemed to understand for soon she felt his hand moving to the nape of her neck and his other hand on her waist, pulling her closer, and she gladly complied. When he nibbled on her upper lip gently, Sansa opened her mouth, and his tongue immediately found hers, sending a wave of heat through her body.

She knew now: this was the point of no return. A path had appeared before her eyes (a poppy path) and she was willing to walk along it.


End file.
